


Fifty Cent Glow Stick Romance

by clxude



Series: fifty cent glow stick au [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Drabble, Getting Together, M/M, Somewhat, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Underage Drinking, What Have I Done, glow stick au, i love katastro so much ahhhh, this is why people shouldn't come to me for headcannons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-23
Updated: 2016-04-23
Packaged: 2018-06-03 21:37:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6627442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clxude/pseuds/clxude
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“God,” it comes out like a gasp, like a dying breath, and suddenly Yaku’s neck is on fire, glowing brighter than Kenma’s.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fifty Cent Glow Stick Romance

**Author's Note:**

> for the soulmate anon and [cinder143](http://cinder143.tumblr.com//) on tumblr  
> I hope this meets satisfaction 
> 
> beta-ed by [rey](http://kxrasuno.tumblr.com//)

“Come on, Kuroo. Do I have to?” Yaku asks his captain as he shoves his knee pads into his sports bag. The club room is quiet except for Kenma’s annoyed tchs as he fiddles with his handheld game. “I already met the first year libero, and everyone knows a party is just an excuse for you to get drunk.” 

 

Kuroo rolls his eyes, chucking his sweat-stained practice shirt at Yaku’s head. He ducks, and the tee shirt sails miles over his head. By the time he looks up, Kuroo is already guiding his soulmate towards the door.

 

“You know that isn’t true. It’s an excuse for Kenma to get drunk, and Taketora if he’s up for it,” he calls as he opens the door, before shutting it behind him. 

 

Yaku sighs and tosses his bag over his shoulder. He knew he would go to the welcoming party ever since Kuroo mentioned it during a weekend practice the year before.

 

The door slams shut behind him.

 

...

 

Katastro is pumping through the bass when Yaku arrives. He can hear the second and third years yelling from the kitchen. Their words are slurred; Yaku’s not surprised that Kuroo already broke out the liquor.

 

A few boys are huddled on the couch. One of them, thankfully shorter than Yaku, greets him. Yaku knows he’s a first year libero, but he can’t remember his name. There’s a few other players, but none of them look up from their quiet conversation.

 

Yaku moves farther into the house, to where the kitchen is located in the rear. The wild cheers grow louder and mix between sporadic yelling. By the time he turns the corner to enter the room, Yaku already regrets showing up.

 

Kenma is sitting on the counter. His back is to the edge and his PSP is in his hands. Kuroo’s mouth is latched on his neck above his soulmate tattoo. Kenma, even all the attention on his pale skin, deftly plays whatever game is currently holding his attention. A flash of ultraviolet light makes the room brighter for a second when Kuroo notices Yaku.

 

“Hey. I didn’t think you would show.” He smiles his stupid cat grin, and faster than Yaku can blink, he’s back to turning Kenma’s neck into a red and purple mural.

 

Taketora offers him a beer and drags him to the table. A cluster of chairs surrounds the table, mismatched and barely fitting under the table. Yaku recognizes most of the faces, but a few unfamiliar first years jump out at him.

 

“ _God,”_ it comes out like a gasp, like a dying breath, and suddenly Yaku’s neck is on fire, glowing brighter than Kenma’s. A boy is glowing brightly as him, reflecting off of his gray hair and large, green eyes. He looks too big to be a first year; Yaku hopes he’s a transfer student, hopes he’s a second year with all the height he appears to have on the libero.

 

“Yaku found his soulmate!” Fukunaga cheers after the stunned silence ends. “Too bad he’s so tall.” He frowns.

 

“Shut up, Fukunaga.” Yaku means for it to come out as a growl, but it’s more of a dry heave. His hand is clamped over the tattoo, blocking some of the light. “You,” he jerks his head at the boy with the other glowing mark, “you’re coming with me.”

 

“Yaku moves fast.”

 

“Hopefully he lasts longer than that in the bedroom.”

 

He hears the slap of skin; a high-five. Yaku flips them off as he stalks out of the room, hoping that his _soulmate_ follows after.

 

...

 

They’re sitting on the edge of the back porch. Yaku’s legs are a good six inches from the grass below; the first year’s are bent at the knee. They’re silent but no longer glowing, so that serves as some relief.

 

Their hands are a centimeter apart. Occasionally, the first year’s fingers will linger closer, but always dart back at the last moment.

 

He can’t help it; the words burst out before he can swallow them back down. “What’s your name?”

 

“Lev. Haiba Lev.”

 

It’s foreign sounding, rough on his tongue the first time he says it, slowly. Yaku wants to say it again and again, but holds himself back.

 

“What’s yours?”

 

“Yaku Morisuke.”

 

“What class are you in? I’m in three.” He smiles up at the hazy moon, tapping his fingers on the wooden deck.

 

“Year three, class five.”

 

There’s a sharp intake of breath beside Yaku. The finger tapping stops.

 

“You’re... you’re not a fellow first year? But you’re so short!”

 

Yaku stands to walk away, but a hand on his ankle and the ultraviolent light of his tattoo stops him.

 

“Can we talk at volleyball tomorrow? I would rather talk now, but my mom doesn’t want me staying out too late.”

 

Yaku represses the urge to roll his eyes, because this _boy,_ this giant of a boy, is staring up at Yaku like he hung the stars. Like his leaving will destroy the pinpricks of light.  

 

“I’ll be there, Lev.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and Kudos are always appreciated. Requests are welcome at my [tumblr](http://mother-iwa-chan.tumblr.com/)


End file.
